


bend or curl

by 100hearteyes



Series: closest thing to crazy [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: 2018 Winter Olympics, Alternate Universe - Olympics, Clexaweek2018, Curling, Day 4, Day 7, F/F, Free day, Rivals in a Secret Relationship, Secret Relationship, also, also it's still Saturday in America right? Right, because it's too late for day 4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-04
Updated: 2018-04-29
Packaged: 2019-03-25 08:53:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13830735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/100hearteyes/pseuds/100hearteyes
Summary: Lexa's Norway and Clarke's USA are underdogs in the 2018 Olympic curling medal race, but both women are too competitive not to set their sights on the gold. They're also too in love with each other not to tempt fate with secret rendezvous, all the while stoking a mad rivalry between their teams.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> 3/3/16-18. Lexa lives on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The amount of research I made for this fic is crazy. All events not pertaining to Clexa actually took place and on those days. I tried to make this as tightly connected to what happened in PyeongChang as possible.

The first day of round robin is almost over and they've won every match. Lexa knows not to get optimistic, though, for they have only faced weaker competition so far. The true challenge is the last game of the day, against the US.

Canada and Sweden are the teams to beat. Canadians want to double the gold they won four years ago and the Swedes want to get their monopoly back. This year, however, two more teams have put in a very solid application form the gold. The US, looking for their first medal, and Norway, looking to score for the first time since 1992 — otherwise known as the ones with the fabulous pants.

Lexa is one of them. She wears her pants with pride, one might add, knowing no other country or sport can rival the creativity. You have to wear them with gusto. With style.

Style is precisely what the US team don't have. They have no style, they have no talent, they have no game. That's what Lexa tells herself as she gets ready for the match. It's one they can't lose. It's the one they can't lose.

The heated rivalry between the Norwegian and American women's curling teams had its genesis seven years ago, at a time when Lexa wasn't yet a Norway international. Apparently, according to reports (and Lexa has privileged information from both sides), the American captain was so mad that they'd lost a game that she threw her broom at her Norwegian counterpart. Some say that the Nordic skipper had been poking the bear all day — Lexa is not inclined to believe such rumors. A fight broke out, two girls (one from each team) ended up in the hospital with broken arms and thus the feud began.

So yes, they have to win. Otherwise they risk being lynched by every single curling fan in Norway. All fifty of them.

As the skip, an honor she garnered two years ago, Lexa spearheads her team on the way to the sheet and is the first to get a look at the opposition's faces. There's Octavia Blake, the lead, as impatient as she is talented. The second is Harper McIntyre, the weakest link but very good still. The vice-skip is Raven Reyes, a brilliant strategist and great at placing shots. The skip is Clarke Griffin, by far the best player on that team.

Norway's second is their weakest link, too, but as opposed to Harper, Tris is a very young player with amazing potential and Lexa predicts she will one day be the skip. On the other hand, Indra, arguably the world's best lead, has announced her retirement after PyeongChang. However, as long as Lexa has Anya at her side as her vice and closest friend, she knows their team is one step closer to winning everything.

Both teams' subs, Silje Odegaard and Zoe Monroe, stay behind. Lexa greets Octavia, Harper, and Raven with simple handshakes, but when she gets to Clarke, the blue-eyed, blonde-haired beauty holds onto her hand and she feels their rivalry flare.

“Nice pants, Lund.”

Lexa looks down at her pants, a deep red with hearts in different shades of pink all over. “Thank you,” she says, looking back at her rival. “My girlfriend will get to take them off me tonight.”

Clarke snorts. "Are you ready to lose?"

She raises an eyebrow, thriving on the interaction. "No more than you should be."

Clarke scoffs and it's both annoying and exhilarating. "Someone's going to cry in her girlfriend's arms tonight. And just in case your cute little Norwegian brain hasn't caught up, that someone is you." Lexa's eyes narrow.

"I never cry when I lose."

"So you admit you're going to lose today?"

"Never."

 

* * *

 

They lose.

They lose and Lexa throws her shoes in her bag furiously as her teammates sulk around her on the locker room benches. Everything is said and done, their coach has properly scolded them, so there is nothing else to say or do that will make the situation better.

"I need to go," she mutters, shouldering her bag and heading out. Behind her, she hears Anya, ever the vocal competitor, say something close to 'fucking Americans'.

On her way back to the Olympic village, Lexa goes over every end, every throw, every sweep, every move in her head. She has no problem admitting that their opponents' strategy was better and forced them to make unlikely mistakes. She'll just have to find a way to get the upper hand next time.

When she reaches Gangneung, Lexa is feeling at peace and decides to take a quick trip to the local McDonald's restaurant, where she drones out the orders she knows so well. Finally, she makes her way towards the dorms.

The door is closed when she gets there, which is a relief. It means no one else is in there. She knocks and when it opens, a smile pulls at the corners of Lexa's lips. Before she can say anything, a hand grabs her wrist and pulls her inside, closing the door behind her.

A pair of arms slides around her waist and she wraps her own around the other woman's shoulders. A wide smile greets her. "I told you I would win."

Lexa rolls her eyes but can't hold her smile. She gives Clarke's puckered lips a peck and disentangles from the blonde's arms to show her peace offering.

"Happy Valentine’s Day. I brought your favorite."

Suddenly Lexa is all but forgotten in favor of the McDonald's bag and Clarke runs back to her bed, already barefoot, where she opens the bag and pulls out her order. Lexa takes a spot on the bed as well and Clarke kisses her cheek, mouth already full of French fries. "Thanks, babe."

Clarke hands her a burger and Lexa unwraps it carefully. "Don't talk with your mouth full", she chastises lightly.

"How can you be both the most amazing and most boring girlfriend ever?" Clarke asks rhetorically around another mouthful of food.

Lexa sends her an admonishing look. "Manners aren't boring, Clarke. If we don't learn to behave properly, we may as well be animals."

"I'm an animal."

Lexa smirks and pops one of Clarke's fries in her mouth. "I won't argue with that." Clarke slaps her arm with playful indignation and Lexa takes advantage of the comfortable lull in conversation to grab her own fries. "I'm sorry, by the way."

Clarke frowns in puzzlement. "For what? I won."

"Yet it looks like you will have no crying girlfriend to hold in your arms tonight.”

"You already did that weird thing where you go through every single second of the rink in your head, right?" Lexa nods, secretly pleased that Clarke knows her so well. "I don't mind other kinds of holding," Clarke winks, then her lips stretch in a wide grin — and again, so much food; Lexa should really find it more disgusting than she does. "Besides, you're an ugly crier."

Lexa pokes her tongue out and Clarke laughs, and from then on everything escalates in the most pleasurable ways.

 

* * *

 

“I can’t wait to retire.”

They are lying on Clarke’s bed; the blonde’s body half draped on Lexa’s and a tattooed arm around her shoulders. Lexa’s fingers trace idle patters on her girlfriend’s upper arm, as Clarke’s fiddle with her belly button, reveling in the way Lexa’s stomach clenches every now and then with the slight tickling sensation. One of Clarke’s legs is laid across both of Lexa’s and her head rests on the brunette’s chest. It’s perfect.

Lexa kisses the crown of Clarke’s head. “What will I do without you on the circuit?”

“You’ll win every tournament and then take the fastest plane so you can come home to me.”

She hums and caresses the skin beneath her fingers as she feels Clarke’s lips leave a soft kiss over her heart. “I like that plan.”

“Me too.” Clarke tightens the hold on Lexa’s body. “All I need is one medal. Just one and I can go home and say ‘job well done’.”

“I think you always do a great job,” Lexa says with sincerity.

Clarke looks up to meet her eyes with a pleased grin. “I love that you mean that.”

They share a soft smile and Lexa returns her gaze to the ceiling. “I can’t go home without a medal either. Expectations this year are… so high. A famous Norwegian clothing brand is interested in sponsoring us, but they will only do it if we bring home a medal. And my family…” She swallows down the knot in her throat. “They aren’t easy.”

“Your mom would have a heart attack if she knew you’re dating your nemesis”, Clarke jokes, clearly trying to lighten the mood. It works, for Lexa feels her lips curling into a small smile.

“Going home with a rival and without a medal. I might as well buy her a coffin right away.”

Clarke chuckles against her chest and moves so she’s straddling her. “Born in Canada, raised in America, yet you chose to represent Norway. Why?”

“Loyalty,” Lexa replies solemnly. “My parents are Norwegian. I wanted to honor that.”

“Your parents are assholes”, Clarke counters passionately, rehashing a topic that usually ends up in them fighting. “The way they treat you, Lexa, it’s no way to treat a child.”

“I owe them, Clarke.”

"No, you don't. You never did. Even if you had, not anymore."

"They let me put my life on hold for curling."

"And you've brought home medals and thousands of dollars. You've more than paid off whatever debt you think you have to them," Clarke presses. “They only let you be a pro curler because they realized you were good and they could suck a lot of money from you. You’ve more than earned your freedom.”

“That medal is my freedom,” Lexa says at last. The room is silent, the air heavy with the admission, until Clarke scoffs.

“They will only let you get away with gold.”

“Exactly.” Clarke’s eyebrows wrench together and her eyes ask Lexa a question. She answers with both determination and resignation. She has to win. Unfortunately, that’s the only way.

It’s yet another admission that hangs heavy between them.

“Lexa, I love you, but-“ Clarke averts her eyes at last, almost remorseful. “I won’t let you win if we play each other.”

“I never expected you to.” When Clarke returns the questioning gaze to Lexa’s eyes, she meets it with reassurance. “I would never.”

Clarke nods, still pensive. Her brow furrows and her whole face takes on a stormy expression. “I hate your parents, Lexa. I hate them so much.” Lexa’s heart breaks when she sees the tears pooling in Clarke’s eyes. “I just— After everything they did to you, I just don’t understand how you feel any sense of obligation and- and _gratitude_ ,” she practically spits the word, ”to those… Those _monsters_.”

Lexa can’t deny it, she hasn’t since three months into dating Clarke, so she just closes her eyes, trying to prevent the woman she loves from reading the pain in them. It’s useless, she knows, and when she opens them again, the same fire burns in Clarke’s stare, albeit softened by concern. She tries at a smile, but fails to stretch her lips or soothe her soul, before leaning up on an elbow and pulling Clarke down with a hand on the back of the blonde’s neck, bringing their lips together for a kiss. That works.

“Can we talk about something else?” she asks, breathless against Clarke’s lips.

She doesn’t need to open her eyes to know that Clarke is smirking. “We don’t have to talk at all.”

 

* * *

 

Round robin comes to a close a week later and Lexa is exhausted. Curling might not be as physically taxing a sport as others, but it has the added component of strategy and it exerts your brain as well as your body.

Four teams have qualified for the playoffs: hosts Republic of Korea, Sweden, USA, and Norway. Shockingly, the reigning gold medalist, Canada, hasn’t made it to the knockout round. Lexa’s team made it by just a hair, but knowing how tight competition was this year, she’s just happy they passed.

Thursday is their first day off since competition began and after some gym and recuperation work in the morning, their team decided to take the afternoon off and watch skiing competitions. They are used to Lexa’s hermit ways, so they don’t question it when she tells them she’d rather be alone and rest. She waits for a half hour after they’ve left and leaves as well, headed for the transport mall.

Clarke is already there when she arrives and no words are exchanged before they greet each other with a quick kiss. When they pull away, Lexa looks Clarke up and down and her eyes narrow when she sees what the blonde is wearing. “I thought I had lost those pants, Clarke.”

Clarke shrugs and takes her hand, leading them to the screening area. The pants are a wonderful deep blue, with crazy red and white cornucopias. “I fell in love with them when you wore them on Friday. When I saw them in your wardrobe on Monday…” Clarke trails off, winking at her.

“I cannot argue with that.”

They go through screening just in time to catch the incoming bus. Unfortunately, it fills up pretty quickly, so they have to take seats facing two other athletes. Both guys, both British, judging by their accents, and both idiots.

“Aye,” one of them says after a while, a big smile on his face. “How’re yous doin’?”

Clarke, forever the nicer one of the two, returns their smile, though not as wide. “Good, thanks. We’re heading to the Olympic Park for some events.”

“Yea, me and mi mate are doin’ that as well. Yous want some company?”

“No, thank you,” Lexa chimes in curtly, with a tight smile.

His face falls. Then it brightens when he notices Clarke’s pants. “Aye, ye’re Norwegian! I saw you play on the telly, ye’re everyone’s favourite team.”

This time, Clarke smile is all but fake and Lexa fails to stifle a self-satisfied smirk. ”Thanks.”

“Yea I hope you thrash Korea in the semis.” He elbows his friend in the ribs. “We’ll be watching, won’t we Stevie?”

“Definitely,” Stevie nods with a supposedly charming smile. His accent is much more comprehensible. He turns to Lexa and raises his eyebrows. “You’re that hot lass from the Russian curling team, right? Natalia Borisova?”

“Anastasia Bryzgalova,” Lexa corrects impeccably. From the corner of her eyes, she sees Clarke quirk an eyebrow up at her.

“Ye’re even hotter in person,” the first guy says enthusiastically. Lexa guesses it’s meant as a compliment.

Luckily, she doesn’t have to react, for the bus stops at the Olympic Park and the four of them file out. Lexa makes goodbyes quick and leaves towards the hockey center with Clarke’s arm looped around hers. She only gets a minute of reprieve before Clarke inches even closer to her with a raised eyebrow.

“So… Natasha Brogalova, huh?”

“Anastasia Bryzgalova,” Lexa rectifies, giving nothing away. “She’s that girl from the Russian mixed doubles team.”

“Oh, I know who she is,” Clarke jibes with amusement. “You seem to know her name very well.”

“I watch some curling.”

“Bet you do.” One beat, two beats. Clarke’s eyes are practically shining with mirth. “They were right, though. She’s beautiful.”

“She is.”

“But not as beautiful as you.”

Lexa can’t help the rolling of her eyes. “I was not comparing, Clarke.”

“I know, but I am.” Clarke’s shit-eating grin is essentially everything. “I love comparing you to other people, because you always win.”

Lexa ducks her head, hoping to hide the pink tint of her cheeks. From the way Clarke kisses one of them, she’s not successful.

 

* * *

 

“Clarke, you are crushing my hand.”

She gets a simple ‘sshhh” in response.

“Clarke. I need that hand to play.”

“Shut up, Lexa”, Clarke snaps with a whisper. “Respect the game.”

“But Clarke—“ Blue eyes dare her to continue. She whispers in the blonde’s ear, “I need that hand to have sex.”

That earns her a gigantic eye roll, but Clarke does let up on the bone-crushing hold on her hand. The nerves are understandable, USA and Canada are playing for the women's hockey gold and the ongoing penalty shootout will decide everything. Lexa slides her fingers into the spaces between Clarke's and waits with bated breath as a player called Brandt takes a penalty shot— and the goalie stops it. Clarke grabs the front of Lexa's jacket and hides her face in the brunette's shoulder. "I can't watch it," Clarke groans, her voice muffled by Lexa's jacket.

"Then don't."

The glare Clarke sends her is all too satisfying.

A Canadian player called Agosta steps up and Clarke lets go of Lexa's jacket to watch it play out. The player shoots and— goal. Clarke drops her head on her hands with a groan. "2-2. We're fucked."

"It's not," Lexa says seriously. "You have the chance to take the lead again, right?"

Clarke lifts her face off her hands and kisses Lexa's cheek. "It's cute that you try." Then, "Yes, we do. But we've lost the two-point lead and now it's sudden death. There's no safety net anymore."

Lexa nods, thinking she understands, and shifts her focus back to the rink. The American player who has shouldered the responsibility to take the shot has the name 'Marvin' on her back. She gets into position, looks at the goal, and— it's in!

Clarke yells and jumps in celebration, and hugs Lexa haphazardly, and even Lexa is smiling despite her total lack of interest in the game.

The crowd settles down and an expectant silence cloaks the rink once more. Clarke squeezes her hand before letting it go. "Maddie Rooney has to stop it. I can't take another minute of this shit. I'm gonna have a heart attack."

Clarke wraps her hands together against her mouth, the picture of nervousness. Maddie Rooney takes her place in goal. The opposing player, Spooner, gets into position. One beat. Two beats. Three beats. The stick swings—

Lexa jolts when Clarke erupts into yelling and cheering and jumping, and more cheering and even some stranger hugging, arms thrown up in the air and euphoria evident on her face. The whole stadium has gone crazy, but Lexa only has eyes for one person. She can't hold in a wide, toothy grin as her heart swells with love for her blissful girlfriend, even as said girlfriend is screaming from the top of her lungs, 'I FUCKING LOVE YOU MADDIE ROONEY, YOU'RE THE LOVE OF MY LIFE'.

A second later, Clarke throws her arms around Lexa's neck and peppers her face with the sloppiest, most wonderful kisses that land everywhere but on her mouth. Lexa hugs Clarke back, laughing at her silly, beautiful girlfriend, and decides right there and then that regardless of the outcome of the curling tournament, as long as she has Clarke by her side, she's invincible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second part will be posted either tomorrow or sometime during the week :) tell me what you thought in the comments!
> 
>  
> 
> The pants Clarke 'borrowed' from Lexa: https://goo.gl/images/ngGacV  
>  
> 
> Also, I know that it's the men who wear the crazy pants, but I wanted to have some fun.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to post this on Wednesday, but grossly underestimated how long the final scene would be xD and then I only had time to finish it this morning. So here goes, I hope you like it:

It’s Friday morning, the day of the semifinals, and Lexa is already strategizing and picturing different scenarios in her head. The Korean women’s curling team has been one of the pleasant surprises of the Games. The “Garlic Girls”, spurred on by their public, finished first in the robin round, with only one defeat. It’s a Herculean task they have in their hands and Lexa wants to complete it successfully.

Anya likes to eat before an important game. Indra watches war movies. Tris likes to take long walks and call her family. Lexa meditates.

She meditates for a long hour before breakfast. She enjoys the silence, the peace of mind, the solitude. In these moments, no one depends on her for anything — no one expects her to make any decisions. It’s just her and the universe, and a sense of calm that washes over her and helps her prepare mentally for what lays ahead of her.

Finally, Anya knocks on her door and she accompanies the team to the cafeteria. The place is, as usual, jammed and noisy, with athletes screaming over each other to make themselves heard and obnoxious, loud music adding to the cacophony. There goes her calm state of mind.

They find a cluster of empty seats and one of them stays while the others get food. Minutes later, Lexa is peacefully and slowly eating her meal when a tray is placed beside hers. She looks up as the captain of the Swedish team takes the empty seat next to her. They share a polite nod and the rest of the Swedes take their seats alongside her team. She looks around and understands their choice — it was either scattered seats all over the room and with people they might not understand, or the whole team sitting with a rival one they can maintain a decent conversation with, considering how similar their languages are, especially their spoken forms.

So she accepts the new company, not shifting her focus from her meal. A few minutes later, as though she is attuned to Clarke’s mere presence, she looks up to see the USA team making their way out of the cafeteria. Her eyes lock with Clarke’s briefly, enough for her girlfriend to send her a discreet smile. Lexa nods with an imperceptible smile of her own — one she knows only Clarke will realize is there — and is just about to get back to her food when she hears the Swedish captain sneer.

“There goes the doping parade.”

Lexa stills and raises an eyebrow without looking at her counterpart. “Pardon?”

The Swedish captain — Nia Källström, Lexa remembers suddenly — leans back in her chair and curls her lips into a vicious, mocking smirk. “Everybody knows that all American athletes are doped.”

Now, Lexa turns to face Nia, a menace in her narrowed eyes, her face otherwise emotionless. “It is dangerous to make general assumptions based on a few.” She looks back at Clarke, who has stopped to talk to some of her compatriots, and her heart swells. She knows the ins and outs of Clarke’s life — if her girlfriend is a cheat, then Lexa is the happy-go-lucky type of person.

“It’s not an assumption when it’s out in plain sight,” Nia insists, and Lexa feels her fists tighten as her heart rages. When she looks up again, Clarke has already left. “I mean, look at the captain.” The Swede fails to notice the way Lexa’s eyes catch fire. “Only doping could make a pro athlete out of that ugly fat ass—“

Lexa doesn’t let Nia finish the sentence before she jumps off her seat and grabs the front of the Swede’s clothes, slamming her back on the table. Tableware clanks together as the woman’s back hits the wood. “Do not,” Lexa growls lowly, coldly, baring her teeth, “talk about her like that again.”

She hears the rest of Nia’s team stand up and her own team follow suit a second later, shielding her from the Swedes. One of them almost gets her hands on Lexa. “They’re your rivals. What does it matter to you that we talk shit about them?”

“Only _we_ can talk shit about the Americans,” Anya interjects, pushing the offending Swede away.

Lexa takes the chance to press Nia harder against the table. “Clarke Griffin is one of the best curling players in the world,” she speaks coldly, looking her opponent dead in the eye. “She doesn’t need doping to elevate her. She elevates herself.”

With that, she shoves the Swedish captain into the table one more time, and then lets go. She turns around and jerks her head at her team to follow her out of the cafeteria.

 

* * *

 

Lexa is meditating again when she hears a knock on her door.

"Come in."

She opens one eye and her lips quirk into a lopsided smile when she sees Clarke enter her bedroom.

"Hey," the blonde says as she joins Lexa on the floor. Lexa's smile widens when she feels her favorite pair of lips press against her cheek. "I heard that you defended my honor earlier."

Lexa shrugs, closing her eye. "She insulted you. It was nothing you would not have done for me."

"That's true," Clarke concedes reluctantly. "But it doesn't mean that it didn't matter or that it didn't make me feel good. And for that, "another kiss on her cheek, "thank you."

Lexa really doesn't mind getting kisses from Clarke, so she doesn't argue with her girlfriend's logic.

They spend a few minutes in silence, before Clarke’s jittering finally ruins all semblance of peace and Lexa abandons all pretenses. She opens her eyes and faces Clarke with a teasing smile.

“Should you not be with your team, Griffin?”

Clarke shrugs. “I usually have a really tight pre-match schedule, but… I thought I could spare a few minutes to find my knight in shining armor and thank her for her valiant effort this morning. Even if I think she could have done it without violence.”

“I’m sorry I could not cater to your issue-solving demands,” Lexa says, with a raised eyebrow. She’s met with an annoyed huff.

“You know I don’t like violence,” Clarke counters and starts rubbing Lexa’s arm up and down. “Besides, you could’ve brought some serious problems on yourself for it. You know I worry about you.”

“As do I, about you.” Lexa kisses Clarke’s forehead. “And you’re right. Hopefully, there won’t be a next time, but if there is one — I will try to solve it diplomatically.”

Warmth fills her when Clarke nods and leans back on the side of the bed. Once more, Lexa only a gets a few minutes of peace before it’s disrupted. This time, it’s a mischievous hand on her thigh. She tries to ignore it, to no avail.

“Clarke.”

“Yes, Lexa?”

Playing innocent, then. Lexa can work with that. “Why is your hand on my thigh?”

Lexa is not looking, but she knows there is an impish smile on Clarke’s lips. “Did you know that sex is said to improve performance in sports?”

She hums, not bothering to open her eyes. “You tell me that every time you try to have sex before a big game.”

“Well, it works, doesn’t it?”

“Actually, it never does.” Lexa stands up suddenly, in one, fluid motion, and heads to the door. She places a hand on the knob and turns it, without pulling the door open. “I will see you later, Clarke.” Clarke pouts, nevertheless standing up. Lexa kisses her when she’s in reach. “I love you.”

The glare Clarke sends her would be nothing short of terrifying for someone unused to it. “I love you too, but I hate you right now.”

“Good. Channel that into beating Sweden.”

 

* * *

 

The USA are not beating Sweden.

It has been a very close affair so far, but the Nordics have a slight lead and are managing it well. Octavia made a mistake in the first end and Clarke’s team may end up paying for it dearly, because so far and except for that, both teams have been at the top of their game.

The tenth and last end is underway and Raven has just placed a great guard in front of the house, and they have the hammer. They lost the previous end by one point and the Swedes are now leading at 11-9.

It’s unfair, because Nia is a terrible person and Clarke deserves to have her revenge, but the world of sports doesn’t care about justice. You either play better than your opponent or you lose. And in such a competitive game, one mistake has been enough to make Clarke and co.’s jobs that much harder.

Lexa smiles as she sees the Swedish stone slide off course and rest on the outer circle of the house, on one of the sides. Next is Raven again, and Clarke once again calls the shots.

“Up!” she hears her girlfriend yell at her sweeping teammates. “Up, up, up!

Another perfectly placed stone, just outside the house and protecting the one they have right inside the button, but Lexa knows it might be for naught if the Swedes play their cards right.

Lexa watches as the Swedes deliberate and come up with a plan of action. Right now, the USA have a stone inside the button and well protected by two guards. Sweden have one at one of the lateral edges of the house. Every other stone has been knocked out of play.

Lexa guesses they are going to try for a double takeout. She watches as the Swedish vice-skip crouches and slides off with her stone, sending it sliding over the sheet. Lexa smiles, seeing how bad the shot is, curling outwards and out of range of the house— until she realizes that it’s sliding over to the one stone that the Swedes have in play. It knocks the stone laterally and sends it inwards. The knocked stone careens into the button and expertly takes the American stone’s place inside it. It’s a brilliant move, one of the best draw raises Lexa has ever seen — now, the two American stones at the entrance to the house are guarding the Swedish stone and the US have seen their plan reduced to ashes.

Lexa bites her lip nervously, reckoning that Clarke will have to come up with something brilliant to invert the current state of affairs. The US need three points to win. Luckily, her girlfriend is the best there is at reacting to adverse situations and is nothing if not the most creative skip in the world.

Clarke is quick to prove her right. After deliberating with her teammates, the blonde crouches into position and gets ready for her delivery. Lexa holds her breath— one, two, three, and there goes the rock. Her eyes widen when she realizes what Clarke decided to do — a raise takeout-slash-draw raise.

“Hurry hard! Hurry hard! Harder!” Clarke shouts at her teammates.

Her stone knocks one of the American guards, which slides down to bump the Swedish stone in the button and out of the house, taking its place, and suddenly the only stone inside the house is American and they still have a two-rock guard. Two to go.

Nia responds skillfully with a freeze through the port. Her draw shot stops directly up against Clarke’s stone in the button, barely touching, making it so that any other stone inside the house will not score. If Clarke tries a takeout, both stones will be knocked out and she will still end up with only one stone closer to the button than the Swedes. The intention is clear: Sweden are willing to lose the end, as long as it’s only by one point — and Clarke’s last stone advantage may have just lost all its significance.

Clarke and her team meet and discuss their plan for the last stone. Their strategy for the last end has been turned upside down. With the result at 11-9, they need two points. The odds are harrowing.

Deliberation is over and Clarke crouches at the hack, whilst Raven defines the target with her brush — that would be Clarke’s job if she were not delivering. Clarke slides off the hack and delivers her stone.

The moment it comes off Clarke’s hand, Lexa realizes what the rock is meant to do and her eyes bulge out. It’s a nearly impossible shot, but if anyone can make it, it’s Clarke — and if Clarke can make it, it might just be the best piece of play Lexa has ever seen.

The stone curls intensely, beautifully, but maintains enough speed to enter the house. Octavia and Harper sweep furiously at times, softly at others, and the stone speeds past the guard, and then beds as it enters the house and slides smoothly to rest against the one Clarke already had inside the button. Lexa holds her breath. Clarke and Nia’s stones are on either side of the one in the button — it’s all a matter of math, now. One inch can either send the game into a tiebreaker end or send Sweden to the final.

Everyone watches with bated breath as the match officials measure the distance from Clarke’s rock, and then from Nia’s, to the button. Lexa can only focus on Clarke, hands on her head, barely believing that this is happening. Just some minutes ago, everyone would say they were out. Now, they might be in.

The officials finish their job and regard both teams. The leader holds up her right arm.

“One point to Team USA! Sweden wins the game!”

Clarke drops to her haunches, defeated. Raven curses, as is her modus operandi, while Octavia and Harper drown their melancholy in an embrace. Lexa wants nothing more than to go and comfort her girlfriend, take her home and kiss the pain away, but her name is called in that moment and she turns to see Anya with sympathetic eyes, motioning her to follow. It’s Lexa’s turn now, and she swears she will make it to the final so she can avenge Clarke and her team.

 

* * *

 

Lexa didn’t shower. She collected her things as quickly as she could and ran out of the locker room. She heard Indra call out for her, only for Anya to tell her teammate to leave her be.

She arrives at the Olympic village and runs straight for apartment building 802. She goes in and climbs the steps two at a time, not caring for the elevator. In no time, she is at the floor she already knows so well and finds the door she wants to open the most. She doesn’t bother to knock, for she knows Clarke will be alone.

Lexa opens the door and barges into the bedroom, and her heart clenches at the sight. Clarke is sitting on the edge of the bed, elbows propped on knees and head in her hands. “Oh, Clarke.”

Her beautiful, wonderful girlfriend looks up, crestfallen. Her eyes are dry, but speak loudly of defeat, frustration, and sadness. Lexa loves her more than anything.

“I still think you’re the best.” Clarke huffs out a broken laugh and Lexa smiles ruefully. She sheds her thick jacket and joins her girlfriend at the edge of the bed and kisses her cheek. “Are you all right?”

“I will be.”

“You were brilliant,” she whispers. Theirs is a bubble that needs no loud words.

Clarke doesn’t answer; she just turns to Lexa and wraps her arms around the brunette’s waist, holding on to her tightly. Lexa returns the hug not a second later and tucks Clarke into her arms, her chest, her neck, and only then does Clarke allow herself to cry, even if not copiously.

After long minutes, all tears have dried up and Clarke kisses her exposed collarbone. “You’re sweaty.”

“I came straight over.”

Clarke nuzzles the hollow of her throat. “I’m sorry I didn’t stay for your game.”

Lexa shakes her head. “I’m glad you didn’t.”

Another kiss to her collarbone. “Yeah, I know.” Clarke leans back and up to kiss her cheek. “How did it go?”

“We won.” After studying the Korean team at length, it had been easy to come up with a plan that thoroughly neutralized their game. “8-2.”

Clarke’s eyes widen. “You thrashed them.”

Lexa can’t help a shy, albeit smug, tiny, crooked smile. “A little.”

Somehow, Clarke hugs her even more tightly and burrows into her neck. “I am so, so proud of you,” her girlfriend mutters into her neck, and Lexa shivers as she feels the vibrations of Clarke’s voice. Lexa leans away, so she can capture Clarke’s lips in a kiss. The kiss softly, slowly, like they have their whole lives to kiss in every different way. Maybe they do. When air starts failing them, they break the kiss and rest their foreheads together, the space between their lips insignificant. “I can’t wait to see that gold medal around your neck.”

“Sweden look unbeatable.”

“We almost beat them and you guys are better than us.”

Lexa hums in disagreement. “You beat us in round robin.”

“You were just warming up for the knockout phase.” Clarke shrugs, swinging one leg over Lexa’s so she can straddle the brunette. “Besides, any team that has you is the best team in the world.”

“I would say the same for you.”

Clarke smirks. “You’re cute.”

“You’re cuter.”

Clarke kisses Lexa’s forehead and rests a cheek on it, arms winding around Lexa’s neck. Lexa wraps her arms around Clarke’s waist.

“I have a clean conscience, you know? We lost, but… We played the best curling of our lives. And yeah, Octavia made that mistake early in the game and she’ll beat herself up for that, but she shouldn’t. We lost on a technicality. We weren’t worse than them and they weren’t better than us. I can’t really fault any of our performances.”

“That last delivery was possibly the best I have ever seen,” Lexa agrees.

“I think we can beat Korea.”

“I know it.” And maybe she can give Clarke some intel on Korea later. It’s possibly not the most sportsmanlike thing to do, but they are going to be married one day, and mi casa es su casa and mis planes son tus planes también, so it’s essentially her moral obligation as Clarke’s future wife to _share_.

“And then you’re going to avenge me against Sweden.”

“I will do my very best,” Lexa promises solemnly.

“And now…” Clarke takes off her shirt, then her bra, and honestly — Lexa could spend days looking at her girlfriend’s boobs, and then spend months writing cheesy poems and singing tawdry odes about them, and then spend a few more years just looking at them again. It would be an endless, idyllic cycle. She barely registers Clarke’s fingers deftly unzipping her impressive blue, red, and white flower-patterned pants. “It’s time for you to get your reward for making it to the final, and for me to get my consolation prize.”

Lexa looks up at Clarke’s face and all she sees is heaven. “I can give you many consolation prizes,” she says dumbly.

Clarke chuckles and kisses her languidly, sexily; like the pleasantly drawn out prologue to a thrilling, nerve-wracking story. “I’m holding you to that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lexa's pants — https://images.nbcolympics.com/www.nbcolympics.com/norway_pants_game_8.jpg
> 
> one more to go :)
> 
> please DO warn me if you see any stupid mistakes. thank you!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that Swede/Norwegian and Norwegian/Norwegian interactions are in Swedish, even though it's actually written in English :p
> 
> I've followed the exact schedule of the Games so far, but for this final chapter I've changed it a little bit. The 3rd place game and the final take place on the same day, simply because it serves the story better. The IOC can sue me.
> 
> I'd also like to apologise in advance to any Swedish person reading this. Nia probably doesn't do your people justice.
> 
> I'm sorry for any mistakes you may find. They are, as always, all mine.
> 
> WARNING: Nia spits some racist shit.
> 
> Enjoy!

The distant sound of a knock. A muffled voice calling her name. No. Not her name. _Clarke_.

Lexa opens her eyes, bleary and drowsy, and takes in her surroundings, the warm body pressed to her front, and suddenly everything makes sense. She shakes the hand on her stomach gently and when that doesn't work, she turns around in Clarke's arms pecks her lips while her fingers card through blonde locks. "Wake up, love."

Clarke just groans and the knocking intensifies, and Lexa reckons that she will have to embue her attempts to awake her girlfriend with a little more urgency.

She shakes Clarke's shoulder. "Clarke," she hisses, careful not to have her voice heard on the other side of the door. "Wake up, Clarke. Octavia is here."

Clarke starts to open her eyes and yawns, clearly still more in the realm of dreams than not. She shields her eyes with an arm and peeks at Lexa from underneath it. "Lex...?"

Lexa would be endeared, if the knocking and calling for Clarke weren't getting more insistent with every passing second. "Clarke, you need to wake up," she whispers sternly. "Octavia will barge in at any moment."

Finally Clarke becomes alert as her eyes widen. She seems to search for words for a moment before bumbling loud enough for her teammate to hear, "I'm going, O!"

"You better get your ass out of the door in the next five minutes! We're supposed to meet with coach at seven!" the teammate yells from the hall.

Clarke frowns and reaches for the bedside table, where she left her phone last night. Her eyes widen in horror when she sees the time. "Shit!" she hisses. "Fuck! I'm going! I'm going! I swear!" she says more loudly to her friend. Then she turns to a concerned Lexa. "It's six-thirty. I forgot to set my alarm last night."

"Clarke!" Lexa scolds.

"I know! Stupid mistake, I'm aware," Clarke whispers back. "Now are you gonna help me or are you just gonna do that thing where you look disapprovingly at whatever I do?"

Lexa rolls her eyes, but can't keep a smile from curving her lips. "I will help you."

Three minutes later, Clarke is in her full gear and ready to leave for breakfast. Lexa feels her chest expand at how beautiful her girlfriend is when preparing to kick some top curler ass.

That is, until Clarke's brow crinkles. Lexa feels her own do the same. "What is it, Clarke?"

"How do we leave and lock the door? Obviously we can't leave together. But if you take the key, I won't be able to get in later, because you'll be busy with your game. If I take it, you'll be locked in. And we can't leave it unlocked because that's too dangerous. God bless America and all that shit, but I don't trust my fellow countrymen not to come in and steal something."

Lexa pinches the bridge of her nose. "This is why we set the alarm, so I can leave before everyone else wakes up."

Clarke's arched eyebrow is all but unimpressed. "You didn't seem so worried about the alarm last night when I had three fingers inside you."

Lexa huffs and rolls her eyes, but she can't help the affection that tugs at the corner of her lips. And with that, comes an idea.

"Give me your key. I'll give it to security, say I found it on the floor, that someone must have dropped it. Then you can go get it when you're back." Clarke's eyes widen.

"That's actually genius. Thanks, babe." Clarke kisses her quickly, softly, and then tugs her to the side, away from the sight line from the door. She gets a second, barely longer kiss, until Octavia is banging on the door again. Clarke grimaces an apology and heads out.

Once the door is closed, Lexa steps closer to it, hoping to hear Clarke and Octavia's conversation.

"Are we really gonna pretend that there wasn't someone else in your room?" she hears the brunette ask.

Clarke's answer makes her smirk. "Yes."

 

* * *

 

She's just about to insert the key in the lock when a body slumps into the wall beside her door.

"Where did you come from?"

Anya is leaning against the wall, arms crossed and a predatory smirk on her lips. Lexa rolls her eyes and unlocks her door.

"I went for a walk."

The eyebrow Anya lifts is all Lexa needs to know that her teammate doesn't believe her, but Anya tops it off with a scoff. "In last night's clothes?" Lexa doesn't dignify her probing with a reply. "I know a walk of shame when I see one, Lexa. I've done many of those myself. Although, in my case," Anya pushes off the wall with lazy mirth in her smile, "it's more of a walk of pride."

"Why? Because you just found out what sex with other people is like again after months and months of having to do it yourself?"

Lexa gets a middle finger in response. "Fuck off. You're just jealous 'cause you never tapped this."

Lexa wrinkles her nose in disgust. "Wouldn't want to."

"Yeah," Anya concurs, her nose wrinkled as well and her brow furrowed. "Me neither." Lexa opens her door and is taking the first step through it when Anya's hand grabs her arm. "So," Anya's eyebrow is once again cocked. "Late night?" Lexa breathes out in exasperation, her eyes rolling so deeply she almost falls backwards. Anya holds up her hands in surrender. "Hey, I wouldn't blame you. Sex helps to decompress so you can be focused later during the game. I've indulged in it myself in the past."

"The past being two nights ago," Lexa replies sagely.

Anya shrugs noncommittally. "Time is relative. Einstein's words, not mine."

"That is so horrendously far from what he actually meant," Lexa sighs.

Anya shrugs with an 'eh', and then her eyes turn serious as she regards Lexa with concern.

"Hey, just... Be careful, okay?"

Lexa quirks an eyebrow. "I'm a lesbian. I doubt that I can get pregnant."

"No, I mean– with your heart," Anya says, stilted. "Just– don't get hurt, okay? I don't want to put up with your pitiful moping afterwards."

Despite the idiotic wording, Lexa finds herself smiling fondly at her best friend. "Don't worry," she assures softly, sincerely. "My heart is very well taken care of." She frowns at the floor, remembering she and Clarke are a secret, and returns her gaze to Anya's with an impishly raised eyebrow. "Besides, I don't see how I can get my heart broken with a motivational one night stand."

Anya snorts and pushes her playfully inside the room, before walking away. Lexa hears her mutter something like 'too damn smart' as she disappears behind the corner.

 

* * *

 

Naturally, Lexa attends Clarke's game, despite having to get ready for her own. But so does the rest of her team. Even Anya. Even Indra, who resents Octavia for dating her little brother, Lincoln. Lexa is quite sure that her teammate is actually secretly fond of the shorter girl.

And naturally, Clarke and her teammates win easily. It's not that the Korean team isn't strong — it's that they have a very defined strategy and once you're able to disassemble it, they have trouble coming up with viable solutions. The result is spectacular: 10-1 and counting. Lexa is endlessly proud.

They're in the last end and it's Clarke's turn to deliver the hammer. Korea have a rock inside the house, off to the side, while the US have none. Clarke has a guard just outside the house, though, and Lexa knows that her girlfriend will use it somehow. It's been a clean sweep so far. Clarke won't waste the chance to one-up Lexa and get an even better result against Korea.

Just as Lexa guessed, Clarke sends the last rock against the one she has outside the house, but she does it to the most unpredictable effect: one rock goes to one side of the house, while the other bumps Korea's stone away. In the end, USA have two rocks in the house and Korea have none. Game over.

Lexa's chest fills with pride and her grip on the rail loosens as she watches Clarke celebrate with her teammates, flags wrapped around them like capes. It's a medal. The first ever in the Olympics for the US women's curling team. And it was Clarke. It was all Clarke.

"They were decent," Anya comments offhandedly, joining her at the rail.

Lexa nods. "They were better than us."

"We're in the final."

She can't help a little smirk. "True." She pushes off the rail and turns to walk out of the venue. "Listen, I have to take care of some business with the organisation. Wait for me at the gym, okay?"

Anya rolls her eyes, but motions for the rest of the team to follow. They separate at the main attic, the team heading out and Lexa remaining in place.

"You'd better not take long with Gerd, little Freyr," Anya tells her with a salutation, before leaving the stadium altogether, giving Lexa no time to mull over the words.

Lexa opts to take a seat in the waiting area, for she knows that Clarke and her teammates will walk by on their way out.

It takes too long for Clarke and her team to leave the sheet and then the locker rooms, and make their way outside, where Lexa is waiting with a perfect mask of indifference and just a touch of boredom. Clarke shows up at last, with a thick winter jacket fluffing up her curvaceous frame and an adorable beanie with a pompom on top pulled down her head and over her ears. She's radiant.

Lexa doesn't move, knowing Clarke will notice her — they always feel it when the other is near. And there it is, just a second later. Clarke looks around and catches her eye, and a quick, small smile graces beautiful pink lips. She tells her friends to go ahead, but then Octavia looks around and sees Lexa, and — an eye roll. Clarke tells her something about 'the cafeteria mess' and Octavia (and Raven, who also looked Lexa's way and rolled her eyes) nods. Seconds later, Clarke and Lexa are the only people there and the blonde is walking up to her, one hand fiddling with the strap of her bag and the other running fingers through golden hair.

"Hey," Clarke greets, and her gigawatt smile is an inspiration. Lexa stands up and takes Clarke's right hand with her left, lacing their fingers together but careful to keep it out of sight of whoever might be peeking in from outside. "I did it."

"I knew you would, Clarke. You are Askeladden."

Her fingers tingle and she wants to smooth the wrinkles of Clarke's frown, but she manages — just barely — to refrain. "What does that mean?"

"It means you are smarter, more tactical, more receptive, and more aware of the needs of others than everyone else," she explains with a pathetic, lopsided smile. It widens when Clarke's widens.

"Thanks, babe. You're pretty Askeladden yourself."

Lexa doesn't have the heart to tell her girlfriend that Askeladden is the name of a character and not an adjective.

"I really want to kiss you." As Lexa goes to replicate the sentiment, Clarke jerks a thumb behind her shoulder. "But I know we can't, because I'm pretty sure that's not how you keep a relationship secret. Love the pants, by the way."

Lexa looks down at her legs, clad in pants littered with small Norway flags. She shrugs with one shoulder. "It's the final."

"I can't wait to tear them off you. And then keep them for myself because that's what I'm going to wear to every single curling competition you participate in after the Games."

Lexa has to curb the idiotic smile that threatens to break her face in half. "I would like that very much."

"Good." Clarke kisses her cheek and turns away, and Lexa is left there, frozen and stupefied as though it were the first time. "Now you go and fuck those Swedes up for me later, yeah?"

It's only once Clarke leaves that Lexa manages to let out a weak squeak of a 'yeah'.

 

* * *

 

They’ve reached the extra end.

This Swedish team might just be the best in the world at the moment and Lexa respects Clarke and her team even more now that she’s experiencing how tough it is to play against Nia and her minions in the knockout stage.

It’s the tiebreaker and both teams need to play all their chips. No more holding back now. Luckily, Lexa is vicious when playing aggressively. Unluckily, so is Nia.

“We have to goad them to the back of the house,” Anya suggests. “We have the hammer, it’s the logical solution.”

Lexa contemplates that option; Nia is about to start her first round and all stones have been wiped from the house. It’s a clean slate of sorts, with only four rocks to go. “It is the obvious solution,” Lexa agrees cautiously. “And it is exactly what they expect us to do, considering we have the hammer. So it is not what we will do.”

At that moment, Nia walks past them to grab a bottle of water from her bag. Lexa and Anya’s eyes follow the witch. Nia returns their stare with a cruel smirk.

“I've read about you, Lund,” the Swede says, as she opens the bottle. “You’re not even a true Norwegian. Born in Canada, raised in America. Not even blonde.” Nia takes a swig of her water and regards Anya with contempt. “Then again, at least you have Nordic blood. Cant’ say the same about your Chinese vice-skip and your African lead, can we?”

“I’m from Nepal, you racist moron,” Anya spits in her bored, resting bitch-face way. “If you’re gonna try to insult us you might at least want to learn how to read.”

“A map could be useful, too,” Lexa adds with a smirk.

“And a brain,” Indra chimes in, showing up at their side. “I was born in Norway to Norwegian parents. You ought to check the facts before you make a fool of yourself.”

Nia grinds her jaw, but maintains her air of superiority. “My point stands. You two should not even be here, you’re not actually Norwegian.”

“If you say so,” Anya shrugs indifferently. “All I know is that I’ll have a hell of a lot of fun wiping the floor with your master race tears.”

Lexa laughs, Indra smiles wolfishly, and Nia fumes. She throws the bottle back in her bag and stalks off to reunite with her team. Lexa turns to her teammates, pleased to see that Tris has joined them as well.

“Let’s fuck this bitch up,” she growls. “Whatever I tell you to do for the first stone, do the exact opposite. They will never know what hit them.”

Nia is the first to play and delivers a stone right to the center of the button. It’s clear in its intention — the Swedes are going directly for the kill. Good. It’s exactly what Lexa thought and needs. She whispers a command to Anya and her teammate heads to the end of the sheet to help her place her shot. Or not.

Anya is pointing to the right of the button with her brush, which means that if Lexa sends the stone that way, it will end up inside the button. However, Anya’s arm is inconspicuously signaling where she really wants Lexa to look. Lexa crouches at the hack, imagines her line of delivery, and nods minutely. It’s show time.

She thrusts herself forward and slides until the timing is right, and releases her shot. Indra and Tris sweep, sweep, sweep, giving the stone momentum and keeping its trajectory as straight as possible — or as straight as a raging lesbian like her can make it. She digresses.

“Hurry hard! Hurry hard!” she yells when the stone reaches the hog line. “Hurry harder, damn it!” Tris and Indra let up their sweeping and the stone stops so that just portion of its circumference bites the outer edge of the house. "Fuck!" she yells in fake frustration. Truthfully, it's a beautiful biter and it stopped exactly where she wanted it to.

Nia walks by her to take her place at the hack and chuckles venomously. "You seem to be off your game, Lund. Are you feeling the pressure?"

Lexa ignores the blonde witch and walks off to her team. On her way, her eyes avert to the stands and she finds Clarke's worried gaze, hands keeping the USA flag tightly wrapped around her body in clear distress. It warms Lexa's heart to witness her girlfriend's concern and to know that Clarke suffers for and with her in the toughest moments. That's why she quirks an eyebrow at Clarke — a silent message, a 'don't worry'. Clarke's eyes widen minutely and the barest hint of a smile blossoms on her lips. Still, she furrows her brow, keeping up with Lexa's farce.

Nia's next move is mandatory as well as predictable. Regardless of Lexa's deception or lack thereof, Nia has to protect the stone she has at the button. A beautifully placed guard is the answer and this time, having learned the lesson from Clarke's trick in the semi-final, Nia is careful to position it just so that Lexa won't be able to make the final stone curl enough to curl around it and still have enough momentum to knock the one in the button away.

Fortunately, that is exactly what Lexa wanted Nia to do. It's even more gratifying when Nia comes up to her yet again with a poisonous smile on those snake-like lips while she's dabbing at her arms with a towel and drying her ungloved hand.

"I hope you learned something from this final, Lund," the Swede taunts. "You need more than a pretty face and fancy moves to be an Olympic gold medallist. This is how top players perform."

Lexa wipes at her forehead and tosses the towel into her bag. She levels Nia with a neutral stare, careful not to give anything away. "You are right, this has been a humbling experience. I have learned a lot just from playing in the final." Nia preens and Lexa can't help the smirk that blossoms in her lips. "I hope you will learn just as much from my next delivery."

She ignores Nia's confused and suddenly uneasy frown and makes her way to the hatch. This time there is no need for faking it. She takes in the scenario again: on Swedish rock in the button, another one guarding it; the Norwegian biter, just barely touching the outer edge of the outside circle of the house, halfway between the middle and the far right border of the rink. She crouches. Anya gives her the line of shot. She slides off and sends the stone curling forward.

It doesn't go straight for the centre, but she needn't correct it. In fact, she encourages it. "Hurry hard! Hurry harder!" she yells at her teammates, who know to do as she says this time and sweep as vigorously as they can. "Hurry hard!"

Lexa doesn't look, she cannot; but she can imagine Nia's eyes widening in horror as she realises that Lexa meant for that biter to be there all along, to be used for a game-winning wick — the stone ricochets off the stationary one she placed before and changes direction. It slides towards the button and knocks the Swedish stone there away just enough to take its place as the stone closest to the centre of the house.

Everything after that is a blur. She raises her arms in the air in celebration and watches as her teammates run to her, some hopping more than others. A second later, four bodies collide with hers and send her flying back and down to the ground, but she doesn't care, she cannot care — this is everything she's ever dreamed of since she was a child, and she's free, gloriously free. From her parents, from responsibility, from expectations, from her doubts. And she's happy, oh so happy, because this medal means everything.

Then her teammates get off of her and Anya helps her up, and she pants, feeling like a tired god, and scans the crowd — and she remembers that no, this medal does not mean everything, for nothing means more than the woman whose eyes she finds in the stands, alight with pride and bliss. Nothing means more than Clarke.

No sport. No rivalries. No secrets. Nothing.

It's a split-second decision. She takes the Norway flag offered to her and takes a victory lap around the rink, letting it flow behind her and show off the colours of her nation, before she climbs up the stairs towards the American delegation. The Americans, Norway's greatest rivals, are celebrating their victory — not just one, but all of them, Reyes and Blake included. Yet she cares only about the one.

Lexa feels a smile take over her whole face when she sees Clarke, eyes shining with elation and lips open in a brilliant smile. Lexa takes resolute strides and basks in Clarke's look of pleased surprise as she gets closer. "Lexa, congrat—"

The words are lost when Lexa cups alabaster cheeks between her hands and crashes her lips with Clarke's. It takes a second for Clarke to reciprocate, stunned as she is by Lexa's unusual spontaneity, but then Lexa feels lips moving eagerly against hers, a body pressing tightly into hers, arms winding around her waist and up her back to grab her shoulders — and a flag merging with hers to cover them both in a glorious blanket of red, white, and blue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> that gay ending though
> 
> I actually wanted to have them kiss at the medal ceremony at first but after writing that gay overload of a celebratory kiss I just couldn't find a way to one up it in a future scene. I mean, Lexa runs to Clarke right after winning and they kiss in the stands with their similarly coloured flags covering each other. It's too gay not to wrap the story up with it.
> 
>  
> 
> the pants Lexa used in the final: https://images.nbcolympics.com/www.nbcolympics.com/field_image/25February2018/norway_pants_game_9.jpg?impolicy=960x540_rectangle
> 
> most of the pants Lexa used during the Olympics: https://pbs.twimg.com/media/DXTwY-2WAAAiklf.jpg  
> plus the ones from Valentine's day: https://media.golfdigest.com/photos/5a84784aa1e39a2946ca1020/master/w_768,c_limit/GettyImages-918181572.jpg  
> and my favourites, which she also used: https://i.pinimg.com/736x/db/a7/c8/dba7c85c806723612a8c78038ad29c0a--red-and-blue-sarong.jpg


End file.
